The Rock

I am fifty three and still have this hole in my soul. The thought of the rock is still as clear as the day I saw it while on the way home from school in first grade. What must she think? Did she see me? Is she still alive?
I was six and got off of the bus and walked up the long gravel road home. Every day I would pass the white house with a window overlooking a rock garden. Every day I would slow down and gaze at all of the rocks on some many shelves and scattered over the area. I was mesmerized one day when I was startled by the voice of this sweet lady as she asked me if I would like to look at them closer. In the early sixties this was no problem and I gladly accepted the invitation.
I looked at each one as I walked by picking up and carefully inspecting each rock. Then I saw them. Two identical perfect rocks. They were so amazing. They were pyramid shaped with a brown earth tone base as if they came from a old brown looking sphere that was carefully broken into many pyramids.
Starting at the ugly brown base my eyes then went on a magical quest. My eyes climbed the pyramid and traversed this amazing black crystal. I then climbe up to a layer of bright sunny yellow crystal that faded into the most brilliant clear crystal I had ever seen. I thought I had found diamonds reflecting the sun all the way down to the earth.
Each day as I got off of the bus I would repeat my adventure glancing over at the lady as she waved out of the window. Then it happened. I walked right up to the rocks, saw there enticing beauty and looked at the window. She wasn’t there. I looked at the rocks and back to the window for what seemed like hours. I took one of the twins and put it under my jacket and walked out into the road. I hesitated in the middle of the road when I realized what I did and then realized I could not take it back now she might see me. I walked on home and realized I could not take it in the house because mom would surely know what I had done so I did the only thing I thought I could do. I buried it under the stump that my dad had cut into a throne for me.
My shame never went away and I never looked at that rock again. Each day as I got off of the bus I made sure my eyes never wandered into that yard again. My shame, how do I get rid of it?
Each time I tell the kids in my youth group this story i get different reactions and many questions. I often wonder if she saw me do it and if she did not I now know she knew what I had done but she never said a word to my parents. I tell the kids that what hurts the most now is the loss of relationship I had with that sweet older lady. Did she get tears in her eyes each day as I walked by wondering if I really cared?
I am very sorry Ma'am, please know i did care.

570 words